Knockin' Me Out With Those American Thighs
by A Deed Without a Name
Summary: Dean knew Sam would've picked up a few changes since he saw him last. He just didn't expect a girlfriend and over a hundred extra pounds to be among them. WARNING: Contains stuffing, feeding, Sam/Jess, Wincest, fat!Sam, feeder!Jess, and admirer!Dean


The window was easy as pie to jimmy open. Dean had done a half-dozen others, all across the country; these cheap apartments were all the same once you really got down to it, no security features at all, about a million ways for a six-foot-tall guy to get in and out without making hardly any noise at all. He just didn't get how people lived in places like this. Especially people who'd been raised the exact same way he had. But he got it: civilian life made you lazy. He'd seen that in Sammy already two years ago, not checking his six, no weapons on him.

There were probably ways to broach the subject Dean wanted to other than breaking and entering, but - considering their last conversation, how the hell else was he supposed to get Sam's attention?

Carpeted. Swallowed up the soft _tmp_ of his boots. The bead curtain he had to sweep through made a hell of a lot more noise...a bead curtain? _Really, Sammy?_ California had definitely fucked up his sense of damn near everything. Normally, Dean would've found a way around it without all the clacking, but he kinda wanted to get caught here.

And sure enough, almost immediately, somebody got up and came out of what he assumed was the bedroom. You could get lazy. But those instincts, that ear for something less than kosher, those would be with you forever. Sam was still Dad's son, same as Dean.

It was practically pitch black in here, past the window. Dean couldn't see a damn thing and only had half a second to wonder why Sam's footsteps were so much heavier before he was on him.

_Soft._ That was Dean's first thought, grabbing at forearms, feeling the meat on them over the muscle. And it was his first clue that he'd fucked up. Even in the dark, he could tell that this guy was huge. Tall, like Sammy, but definitely not shaped like him, and really, it wasn't Dean's fault. According to the files at the Registrar's Office, this was Sam's address.

Typical. A cool forty-k a year and they couldn't even be bothered to keep track of where their students (technically alumni) lived. Dean hadn't ever seen the point in higher education.

He'd figured he'd get Sam subdued quick so he could figure out who it was and they could talk. It'd be easy, he was out of practice. But Dean hadn't counted on fighting somebody so big. This guy, whoever he was, had to have some sort of martial arts background, and he definitely had the weight advantage.

Dean barely managed to twist away, gasping. The hard edge of his amulet hit him in the breastbone. "Shit," he muttered under his breath before ducking back through the beads and heading for the window. Light from the city outside sliced across his face for half a heartbeat and he could only hope it wasn't enough for an accurate police sketch. He was just tensing to dive out the window when a voice, _Sammy's_ voice, stopped him in his tracks.

"Dean?"

_What the hell?_

The lights flicked on. Dean winced, eyes narrowing, but even before they adjusted, he could see enough to throw him for a serious loop.

It was definitely Sam, first of all. Dark hair curled over the top of his ears, long enough it would've had about a fifty-fifty chance of giving Dad an aneurysm if he'd been here. There was that pointy little nose, the mole next to it, and the eyes like sunlight bouncing off a mountain reservoir. Dean was pretty sure that color, whatever the hell you called it, was stamped on his soul.

Standing there in a T-shirt and boxers, Sam was halfway tucked behind the wall, sorta hunched in on himself with his arm wrapped around him like he was trying to hide. Not that it was doing him a whole lot of good, there was still plenty to see. He was blushing hard, a furious, steely look on him, but Dean barely noticed.

Last time he'd seen Sammy, briefly, he was the same as he'd basically always been. Super tall, skinny, all elbows, knees, and ribs. And Dean didn't expect him to be exactly the same. It'd been two years, after all. But this big a change? Pun totally intended?

Sam'd gained weight. And this wasn't "missed a few workouts, ate a few extra burgers" weight, more like "parked on the couch and deep-fried every meal for the past few months" weight. His face had softened up, rounded out, the sharp cheekbones that'd really only come up recently more or less hidden. There was a soft swell right under his jaw that was almost a second chin, and would be with another pound or two. His chest was like a pillow under a T-shirt that practically clung to him, and just looking at Sam's pecs (tits?) made Dean realize he'd been with some women who were less endowed than his little brother was now.

Sammy's hips were wide, obvious love handles sitting on top, and the long, skinny thighs Dean remembered were now thick and plush. Even his knees weren't that knobby anymore. Obviously, he couldn't see his ass from this angle, but he imagined Sam'd plumped out there, too. Given what the rest of him looked like.

Sam's belly was what really pulled Dean's eyes in. It was the biggest part of him by a mile, a large, firm gut that might've been perfectly round if he wasn't trying to crush it down or hide it from view or both with that arm. It jiggled with every breath he took. Actually, his entire body jiggled.

Dean assumed it had something to do with shock. His body just didn't know what to do. Or maybe it was 'cause he was in the same room as Sammy for the first time in years and it didn't matter what he looked like. But Dean's first real reaction was his dick twitching. Good thing his jeans fit loose.

"Son of a bitch," Dean said slowly.

"What the hell're you doing here?" Sam demanded, sounding mad.

"Uh." Dean's mind had basically been blown wide open. He struggled to gather all his scattered thoughts back up. "Well, I was looking for a beer…"

"What the _hell_," now Sam was definitely mad, "are you doing here?"

"Okay. All right." Dean shook his head. It was like a car wreck, couldn't look away. "We gotta talk."

"Uh, the phone?" Sammy demanded sarcastically.

"If I'd've called…" Right. The phone. Where Dean had made himself ignore every single one of Sam's calls right up 'til he stopped trying. "Would you have picked up?"

Sam's jaw tightened, bitchy.

"Sam?"

The two of them turned practically in unison. And there was a girl there, coming down the hallway. A super hot girl, in a cropped Smurfs tee and stripy little shorts that left pretty much nothing to the imagination.

"Jess. Hey." Sammy relaxed by maybe twenty percent. "Dean, this is my girlfriend. Jessica."

So that made two times in five minutes Dean had been shocked totally speechless. Partly because dorky, nerdy little (or not-so-little, now), Sam had somehow managed to reel in a girl who looked like that, and partly because he felt so betrayed. Despite the fact he should be over the moon about this. Seeing as it was exactly what he'd wanted for Sam and all.

If nothing else, the girl explained the bead curtain.

"Wait." She'd been confused, maybe a little scared, but now she smiled. "Your brother, Dean?" She moved over to Sammy and put her arm around his waist, which meant she was pressed right into his side. "Sam's told me so much about you."

Ice water ran over Dean's kidneys. Luckily, autopilot took over, and he grinned at her.

"All good, I hope. Y'know - " He nodded at her shirt. "I love the Smurfs."

"So, you gonna tell me what you wanna talk about?" Sam stepped in, impatient, even as his girlfriend's smile widened. "What's so important you had to break into our apartment in the middle of the night?"

"Not really the middle of the night," Dean noted, checking his watch. "Going on five now." But then he hesitated, looking at Jessica, and then at Sam. It was dawning on him what a piss-poor idea this'd been. "I...y'know what, it doesn't even matter. This was a mistake, I oughta go ahead and leave." He started looking around for the front door, because no way was he crawling through their window again. "Sammy, uh...congratulations. Seriously."

Even as Sammy's mouth was flattening into a hard, thin line that creased his round cheeks, Jessica stopped Dean.

"But you came all the way out here!" And he wondered where Sam had told her he lived, how much he'd told her at all about their life. He was pretty sure there was at least one thing she didn't know. "You need to at least stay for breakfast."

Dean was definitely hungry. But he could also pick up on how bad Sam wanted him gone. Could be because of the weight, was definitely because of how they'd left off. Dean should just split. But he must've hesitated a second too long, and Jessica saw him wavering.

"I insist. I'm a great cook - aren't I?" She looked expectantly at Sammy, squeezed him. "Tell him."

"She's amazing," Sam said quietly, as Dean held himself back from looking him up and down and saying he could definitely tell.

"I know you and Sam have pretty much the same tastes, so you're gonna love it, I promise," Jessica told Dean with a smile. He blinked.

"Uh...yeah, not sure how you got that idea, but I'm not really a huge fan of tofu bacon and fruit salad." Sam'd gotten a taste for rabbit food back in middle school and college only made it worse. Dean had to wonder, though: did he really get that big on lettuce and beets?

Jessica seemed thrown off by that, cocking her head to one side and frowning. Even with her blonde hair bed-messy, she could've been that month's Playmate...those freckles, Jesus. Just how in the hell had Sammy caught her? And _kept_ her, looking like the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man?

"He doesn't really eat that kind of thing anymore," Jessica said. Sam was blushing again. "Let me go put something on and then I'll get started, okay? Why don't you guys take a seat and catch up?"

So that was how Sam and Dean wound up sitting on the couch together in a tiny but surprisingly-nice living room, Jessica's humming and a lot of incredible smells drifting out of the kitchen. Dean was looking around, anywhere but Sammy, trying to avoid the awkwardness between them. Not that there was a whole lot of room for much else between them.

It wasn't a huge couch, and Dean had been right about Sam's ass: he kinda took up a lot of room, his spot marked out by an indent in the cushions before they'd even sat down. No choice but for there to be a hot press of flesh, even through the jeans Sam had gone and thrown on. Dean would love to be sitting anywhere else, even leaning up against the wall, but there wasn't any other furniture in here and Jessica wouldn't hear of him being anywhere but the couch. Sammy seemed inclined to do whatever made her happy.

Dean didn't really know what to say. He definitely wasn't gonna tell Sam why he'd come, he didn't wanna ruin the perfect life he had here...he had to take a second there to tamp the bitterness he felt back down where it belonged. And he didn't wanna mention the literal elephant in the room, either.

He didn't trust himself to talk right now, even. The touching, being so close, it ignited a heat low down in Dean's belly he wasn't really expecting, pulsing from his tailbone to his cock in short, rolling bursts. He did his best to keep his reaction under wraps, praying Sam didn't notice. He needed to grow the fuck up, he wasn't in high school anymore, he needed to do what was best for his little brother, Sammy had a girlfriend now. Like Dean wanted.

But the weirdest thing was that the softness of him, how much of the couch he took up...it seemed to be making it all worse.

Yeah, okay, Dean couldn't take this anymore. He cleared his throat. "Nice place you got here."

Had he really been reduced to making small talk with his own fucking brother?

"Yep." Sam cleared his throat.

"Girlfriend seems awesome," Dean commented after a pause. "Jessica?"

"Jess." That softened Sam a little. "Yeah. She's great."

And there was that betrayal again, right on cue, and this time, it brought jealousy as a plus-one. Before he could stop himself, Dean was saying something he already knew he was gonna regret: "So, you two, uh, shack up before or after the freshman fifteen hit you like a freight train?"

The way Sammy looked at him, Dean wasn't really sure if he was gonna hit him or laugh, and the realization he couldn't read him hit Dean harder than a sucker punch ever could. When did Sam become a stranger to him? Was two years really long enough for that to happen?

Obviously, a lot of other things had changed during that time.

Jess came out of the kitchen then. She'd put on jeans and sneakers, but kept the Smurfs shirt, and obviously opted out of a bra. Dean appreciated that. He hoped it wasn't too obvious, him ogling his brother's girlfriend, but then decided that he didn't really care.

"All right, you two can come on in and get started!" Jess announced with a smile. Dean got up, both eager and reluctant to peel himself away from Sam, and headed into the kitchen.

He took it in with one practiced sweep of his eyes and was surprised by what he saw. Or actually, considering Sammy, maybe not.

There was junk food everywhere he looked, neatly organized, all the opened bags and boxes sealed back up with tape and clips. A huge honking fridge had been shoved into a space that seemed way too small for it. Everything looked fresh bought. Just how fast did Sam go through all of it?

Steaming pans covered the stove, the coffeemaker burbling happily to itself. Jess was bustling around humming softly, smiling. And she'd been hard at work. Every inch of available space on the small table was covered in way more food than Dean had expected. Pancakes, hashbrowns, bacon, eggs, doughnuts, sausages, turnovers, muffins, three cups of coffee. It was all piping hot and looked like food in commercials always did, the real thing never measuring up. Except, Dean guessed, in a little apartment kitchen in Palo Alto.

It smelled even better in here. Dean's stomach audibly growled as he sucked in huge lungfuls of air, Sam shuffling into the kitchen behind him.

"Whoa." Dean was impressed to the point of being blown away. "Am I dreaming?"

Jess laughed, and it was a nice laugh. Musical, almost.

"Hope you've got as big an appetite as your brother does," she joked, and Dean smiled at her.

"Bigger," he promised as Sammy went to sit, and did he imagine it, or did Jess pause for a second there and looked Sam up and down appreciatively?

"We'll have to see," she told Dean.

As Sam settled into his chair, it was obviously too small for him. Didn't have a snowball's chance in Hell of fitting all that big, round ass in there. There was a slight creak, too, and Jess put a hand on his shoulder, leaning in. Dean could swear it was just loud enough for him to hear when she murmured, "We're probably gonna have to get a new dining set soon, huh?"

Dean's kneejerk response was to come to his little brother's defense. He couldn't believe she'd just come out and say it like that...well, he had, but that was kinda his job. When he looked at Sam, though, he was blushing and embarrassed and everything, but didn't actually seem all that upset. So Dean kept it to himself.

There was something going on here that he just didn't get.

Looking at the way Sammy was spilling out of his chair got something sparking in Dean's jeans and he immediately aimed his eyes away as he came up to the table. There was another thing he didn't understand.

Dean sat down, shrugging out of his jacket and button down. His knees knocked into Sam's and he swung them out of the way, ignored whatever that was flickering on Sam's face, and started filling his plate even before Jess invited him to help himself. He reached for his mug of coffee, sniffing at it.

"It's black," Jess assured him. "The way you like it."

"Oh, yeah? How'd you know how I like my coffee?"

"Sam told me. Like I said, he's told me so much about you."

It felt like a bad idea, but Dean looked at Sam over the rim of his mug as he took a sip of some of the best coffee he'd ever had. "Has he, now."

Sammy avoided his eyes.

Dean went with pancakes first, fluffy and so big there wasn't room for anything else on the plate. He drenched them with butter and syrup and when he dug in, they were even better than they looked, which shouldn't even be possible, but here they were. As he ate, Dean made noises he usually tried to keep to himself outside the bedroom. He just couldn't help it. He was kinda worried about offending Jess, but she was just smiling every time he looked at her, like she appreciated what it said about her cooking.

Hell, even without Dean moaning, she had to know how good she was. Her boyfriend being the size of a house and all.

Speaking of Sam, Dean was so focused on his own plate he didn't even notice his brother 'til he was on his second, when he'd loaded up on protein. Bacon and fried eggs, couldn't go wrong.

Sam was eating with a speed and gusto Dean hadn't ever seen from him before. He definitely didn't have that the last time they met, in a diner on the west side of Palo Alto. Dean had a sudden flashback to that, Sammy pushing a soggy salad around his plate and staring down at it, either pissed as hell or trying not to cry or both after Dean tried to let him down easy as he could for his own good. Lied straight to his face two years ago.

It nearly killed Dean's appetite, but he powered through.

Two full plates almost did for Dean, had him reaching down past a swollen stomach with a groan and undoing his belt. He felt himself bloat out further against his hands, nothing holding him back anymore, and it was a relief not to be restrained. He'd blimp right up, too, eating this kinda food at every single meal.

He eyed Sam across the table, still going strong. Imagined him trying to hold back on dates with Jess, but stuffing himself stupid as soon as he got a taste of her cooking. Walking (waddling) out the door with a food baby obvious under his low-slung jeans and faded T-shirts or, shit, even so full he had to spend the night. On the couch, probably, because Dean's baby brother was nothing if not a gentleman.

Dean thought about a slow weight gain with meals and gifts from Jess. Because she had to be an incredible baker, he could practically see it: her handing brown bags full of warm cookies, sealed with heart stickers, off to Sammy with a kiss between classes, every crumb gone halfway through the period, Sam sitting there sated and round. He could see Sam's baggy-ass clothes getting slowly tighter, too, little pot belly coming up, hips spreading, face softening.

Then the two of them moving in together. Jess feeding Sammy three meals this size every day - because, with Sam sitting over there like somebody's prize hog, Dean really doubted that this breakfast was so big only 'cause he was here. Sam walking around constantly stuffed to the gills, practically bursting out of his clothes...he would've ballooned as soon as they signed the lease.

Something like an electrified razor blade zipped down Dean's spine and curled hot, low in his stomach, between his hips, near his balls. He swallowed, face hot and not from the food.

"You're not done, are you?" Jess put more food on the table, moved some of what was already there closer to Sam. She put a hand on Dean's shoulder and he looked up to see her smiling down at him, blonde hair up in a messy bun, freckles like a splatter of cinnamon on her cheeks. "You can't be full yet. Don't you at least wanna try one of everything?"

Despite her soft, almost playful tone and friendly smile, it felt a lot like a command, and a second..._thing_ zipped down Dean's spine. His dick twitched. He swallowed, licked his lips, and told her, "Yes, ma'am. Course I do."

She smiled back, bigger. Her teeth drew over her lower lip in a white flash and she squeezed Dean's shoulder, leaving behind a hot handprint. "Good boy."

When she moved back, he cut a glance at Sammy, wondering what he thought about Dean flirting with his girlfriend. Or his girlfriend flirting with Dean. Whatever was going on here. And Sam was looking back at him, eyes the color of old, rich honey, but he didn't seem upset at all, drinking slow from his mug of coffee.

And, again, Dean had no idea what was happening. He was missing all kinds of things, and that was obnoxious and, dare he say it? Kinda hot at the same time. His dick pulsed.

He kept eating, shiny sausages that snapped audibly when he bit into them, scrambled eggs fluffy as the ones they put out at real hotels, doughnuts the glaze shattered and oozed on, crispy hashbrowns that almost burned his mouth as he shoveled them in, even drowned in hot sauce. Sam ate, too, keeping up a pace Dean couldn't even hope to match. Wasn't he getting full?

Jess kept filling up the empty spaces on the table soon as they appeared. Dean saw her popping a few things in her mouth here and there, some bacon, a doughnut, but nowhere near as much as the two of them.

It was all so good Dean couldn't hardly keep track of how full he was getting. He undid the button on his jeans after his third overloaded plate, and they unzipped themselves under the weight of his stomach. Dimly, he realized he'd let his knees drift back over to Sam's and they'd been pressed together for a while now. Neither of them were moving, despite the throbbing in Dean's groin. With a belch, he leaned forward to grab another cinnamon roll, and his amulet chimed against his coffee mug.

"You're - still wearing that?"

Sammy was surprised. Dean wrapped a hand around the little bronze head, horns digging into his palm past the calluses.

"Course."

He had about a dozen charms scattered all over the rest of him, some from Dad, some he picked up himself, and he didn't plan on getting rid of them whether or not they actually worked. But the amulet'd always felt different to him. A part of his body, something he couldn't ever remove. Might as well dig out one of his own eyes as take it off.

Sam was still eating, making sure to chew and swallow before he talked, avoiding Dean's eyes. "Figured you would've gotten rid of it two years ago."

"Why?"

"Thought you hated me."

"I couldn't ever hate you, Sammy." Dean pressed his knees in harder and ignored what his cock thought about.

He was super aware of Jess in the kitchen. Her back was to the two of them, and they were talking low, but she had to hear. Even if she was acting like she didn't.

Dean decided to just focus on the food.

He managed a fourth plate, no problem, but didn't think there was a whole lot of room left inside him afterwards. He belched again, looked down at himself, and was a little shocked at how bloated he was. The shape of his belly was super obvious under his T-shirt. When he rubbed a hand over the sensitive swell, he had to practically chomp into his bottom lip to keep himself from moaning. His dick twitched. And then it twitched harder when he looked across the table at Sam, whose belly filled his lap and forced his shirt up. He wasn't showing any signs of stopping and Dean realized how small he was, compared to his brother. Despite how enormous he actually felt.

When was the last time he'd been this full? Maybe that pie-eating contest he'd thought would be fun a couple years back, when he and Dad rolled through a place with a county fair on. He might've actually been fuller after that, come to think of it. He'd won...and then thrown it all up right after. But he didn't feel sick at all right now, just...stuffed.

And horny. He'd been fully hard for a while now, dick trapped against his thigh by his jeans. He didn't think it was super obvious, but was wondering how in the hell he was gonna get up and leave when he was done here. Especially 'cause he was pretty sure he was leaking precome by now.

Dean sat back with a little groan, catching Jess's attention. She smiled at him.

"Good?"

"Incredible." Dean mustered a grin. "But I'm definitely done this time." He looked at what was left on the table and joked, "No idea how I'm gonna leave you and go back to diner food, though."

He looked at Sammy, who looked back, but still wasn't mad.

Jess laughed. "I've heard that before...could you scootch over? I need to get into the fridge."

Dean had to oblige. He picked up his chair and shifted closer to Sam, since it wasn't like he had a choice there no matter what direction he went. Moving was tough; he was panting and grunting the entire time, glad when he got to sit back down. But then Jess had him scoot further over. And then a little further. And then there was maybe a foot between him and Sam, and his face was hot but Dean Winchester absolutely did not blush.

He cleared his throat. "Why'd you need in the fridge?"

"Leftovers," Jess said regretfully.

"Did you make too much again?" Sammy asked with a smirk. When she nodded, he told Dean, "She's kinda got a problem with that."

"What can I say?" Jess threw her hands up. "I like making sure people get enough to eat. I guess I overestimated this time because there were two of you. But it's okay." She looked at Dean. "Maybe you can take some with you?"

"He doesn't have a cooler." Sam cut in before Dean could answer. "And he's probably not gonna have a fridge for a while, either."

"I can buy a cooler," Dean argued, hauling himself straight in his chair. His thigh jostled Sam's much thicker one.

"Still. Probably gonna go to waste."

"Oh, the hell it is." Dean grabbed his empty plate off the far side of the table, wincing when he had to lean over, and then reached for the bacon.

"Are you sure?" Jess asked.

"Course I am."

"He's got this," Sammy assured his girlfriend, and Dean wasn't even gonna try and crack the weird way he was smiling at her.

He just said, "Probably all way better hot, anyway."

Jess started piling his plate high for him, putting a lot more on there than Dean really intended to eat, but it wasn't like he could tell her to stop. He burped into his fist as Sam turned that smile on him, then told Jess, "Trust me. Dean's a bottomless pit."

"That's what I like to hear." Jess was smiling, too. And then once Dean's plate was full to overflowing, she put her fingers in his hair. She couldn't really run them through it 'cause it was gelled up, but she scratched softly at his scalp with her long, smooth fingernails, and that practically milked more pre right out of him. Along with a little shuddering gasp that he hoped like hell her and Sam didn't hear. He couldn't even look at the two of them because he didn't want confirmation one way or the other, just got down to eating again.

Dean managed that plateful plus half of another one. He honestly wasn't sure how, but it wasn't like it was hard or anything, with how awesome the food was. Between him and Sam, they pretty much cleared the table. Jess only had to Tupperware up a few pastries.

Dean was slumped in his chair, feeling like he couldn't fit through any doorway in this whole damn apartment right now. He was sleepy, and more sated than he'd ever been in his life, but still hard. Especially when he looked over at Sammy. Stomach twice the size it was when Dean broke in earlier, resting on his thighs, filling up his whole lap, shirt having ridden up to his chest so it was practically a bra. His big hands kneaded at the tan skin in slow circles, going around moles and scars. He looked sleepy himself, perfectly content, eyes half-lidded and a faint smile on his round face.

Dean's shirt was tight over his own belly. When he looked at it, it was like he was nine months pregnant. Or more, about ready to pop. He fingered his belly button and it was inverted, which shocked him. He hadn't known that that could happen. A hiccup caught him by surprise, shaking his whole body.

"Yeah, he's done now." Voice quiet, Sam smirked at him.

Dean rolled up his shirt, and that felt a little bit better. From across the kitchen, Jess cooed, "Aw...freckles." Dean held back another hiccup as he looked up at her.

He glanced back and forth between Jess and Sam, then told them, "Really hope you two're okay with me crashing here for a while, 'cause I'm pretty sure you ain't getting me outta this chair for at least an hour." He smiled, and Jess returned it.

"You're just fine," she assured. "I'm super glad you got enough to eat. And that you liked what I made so much. I guess big appetites must run in your family...and good looks."

She cast a flirty smile at both of them, and a wink at Sammy. Then she went to work washing the dishes, humming to herself. Dean kinda felt like he was alone with Sam even though he knew he wasn't, and took advantage of it, leaning over towards him. He could barely move. Even that much was a huge effort. His belly brushed Sam's, and...how had he not come yet? Sam was just so goddamn warm, a layer of softness over the firmness inside.

"She overfed me," Dean muttered, and Sammy laughed.

"Did she? Looked to me like you were doing most of it to yourself."

"Well, I couldn't help it." Dean hiccuped. "You somehow hooked yourself the best freaking cook on the planet." He knew better, but Dean looked Sam up and down anyway, then licked his lips. "Which I guess explains a few things."

He thought Sam'd be mad, but he just smirked again.

Dean swallowed. Then he blurted, "I'm sorry."

"For - " Sammy burped. "What?"

"What d'you think, man? For what happened two years ago." Dean was about to fall asleep. His stomach was warm and heavy as a rock, practically dragging him down, and Sam's longterm girlfriend was in here with them, and the last thing he wanted to do was talk about this, but for some reason, the same stuff that was making him wanna give up was pushing him forward. He stifled a burp of his own before going on. "I never meant to hurt you. I thought I was doing the right thing but I'm...really not so sure anymore."

Sam was squinting. Dean clarified.

"I lied. And I'm sorry about that, too."

He wasn't sure what it was. Sammy being with Jess? What Dean came here to talk to him about? How full and tired he was? All he knew was something was making him a hell of a lot braver than he was two years ago. He went with it.

Sam was still confused 'til Dean reached up, fingers winding through that floppy hair of his, so soft. He pulled him in close and kissed him. In the moment, Dean didn't like to think that that was what he was doing, but there really wasn't any other word for it. Their bellies were pressed together, thighs, hips. Sam tasted like Jess's cooking and his own unique flavor, wet and hot and primal, something Dean hadn't really expected but instantly loved. He'd thought about doing this enough times to pull it off without a hitch. Even in a position and situation awkward as this one.

Sammy obviously hadn't been expecting this, and that lasted long enough for Dean to start second-guessing. But then he was relaxing into it, giving back like this was something he'd been waiting for his whole life. His hand came over to run up and down Dean's bicep, and the other one rested almost shyly on Dean's belly. Just that touch, while Dean was kissing his brother, feeling Sam's bulk and warmth practically on top of him, had him coming like a shotgun.

His stomach pulsed with fire and his hips had been kicked right out of him, and it just went on and on and on, drawing out of him in wave after wave as he practically yelled into Sam's mouth. Dean'd had some good orgasms in his life, some incredible ones, even. This was something else, and nobody'd even touched his dick.

When he finished, he was shaky and even sleepier than before. He felt like he was floating and didn't even care about the come he could feel between his jean leg and thigh. He pulled back from Sammy with spit dripping onto his bunched-up shirt, and a weight he'd been hauling around for years might as well've rolled right off his shoulders while he was coming. He was sure he was grinning like an idiot. But then it froze on his face when he saw Jess out of the corner of his eye. He'd totally forgot about her.

She was looking at them. Back against the counter, arms folded, soap bubbles frothed up and down her arms. Her legs were crossed tight and her nipples were hard and visible under her shirt. But despite the fact she'd just watched Dean make out with her boyfriend and get off on it - watched her _boyfriend_ make out with his _brother_ \- she was perfectly calm. Just two high points of color on her cheeks.

So Dean was just sitting there waiting for the other shoe to drop, and then it occurred to him.

Did she know?

Sam was so fucking calm beside him, just wiping his mouth off, and Dean wondered if he told her. And then he started taking Jess in, really taking her in. Her height, her hair, her green eyes. Her freckles. He started to realize. Of course Sam told her. Jess was smiling a little. Dean swallowed, and waited for her to talk first.

Eventually, she did, voice gentle. "Dean...you know, Sam's got a law school interview on Monday. He got a one-seventy-four on the LSAT." Dean made impressed noises, assuming that was good even though the words meant less to him than Latin. "I'm pretty sure he'd love to have you around for that, so...why don't you stay for a little while? At least a few days."

Dean glanced at Sam, who just looked back at him with warm eyes, smiling all soft like he did, and then down at his own belly. He put his hands on either side and rubbed, feeling a weak twitch from his soft, wet dick even as he hiccuped. He looked back up at Jess.

"All right, sure," he agreed. "Sounds like a plan."


End file.
